The stories behind the buildings, statues and other points of interest that make Manhattan fascinating.

Friday, July 6, 2012

The "Unexpected Surprise" at No. 326 East 18th Street

A deep front yard behind a cast iron fence and lacy ironwork on the veranda is almost out of place in the city -- photo by Alice Lum

On November 11, 1847 the land which had once been the
sprawling farm or “Bouwerie” of Governor Peter Stuyvesant, now portioned off
into city lots, was conveyed to the heirs of Peter Gerard Stuyvesant—a great-great
grandson--who had died three months earlier on August 10. The
former farmland was already criss-crossed with streets and homes had begun rising.

Stuyvesant’s nephew, the Reverend Peter Stuyvesant Ten
Broeck, who lived in North Danvers, Massachusetts, inherited the fifteen lots
on the south side of 18th Street between 1st and 2nd
Avenues.

Five years later the three lots in the center of the block
were still undeveloped. The Reverend’s daughter,
Cornelia Stuyvesant Ten Broeck leased the land in March 1852 to five
developers: stonecutters John Edwards
and Henry Wilson; and the Youngs brothers, Theodore F., Charles E. and George
V. The Ten Broeck family was specific
on the type of construction it wanted on its land. Building was restricted to “good and
substantial dwelling houses…being three or more stories in height and
constructed either of Brick or Stone.”

Two of the Youngs brothers—George and Theodore—were carpenters. Before long George and his brother William
would go into partnership in a substantial lumber yard on 7th
Avenue.

Before the end of the year two of the houses were completed
and No. 326 (numbered 205 at the time) was finished in 1853. Henry Wilson, who became partners with John
Edwards in a large stone yard called “Wilson & Edwards,” moved into the
house.

The charming row sat far back from the sidewalk, providing a
generous front lawn unusual for Manhattan houses. Like its nearly identical neighbors, it was a
simplified version of the Italianate style sweeping the city. Two stories tall over an English basement,
it was accessed by a pair of double doors under a protective canopy. A veranda stretched along the width of the
house, joining with that of the house at 328, supported by lacy ironwork.

Henry Wilson remained in the little house even as his
reputation and fortune grew. By 1873 he
was the President of the General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen of the City
of New York. He was still living here in
1888 when he took on the additional responsibility as a member of the Board of
Education.

The robust Italianate ironwork of the fence and the railings along the porch and steps was more in keeping with the architecture than the lacier iron of the veranda -- photo by Alice Lum

Through Wilson’s success he never forgot that he had once been a
hard-working stone cutter. He treated his men with generosity and
humanity. Decades later, in 1921, a
stone worker wrote to The Stone Cutters’ Journal praising Woodrow Wilson by comparing the President to
Henry. “I think he must have been some relation to that grand old boss of ours,
Henry Wilson, of New York, that gave many a stonecutter a $10.00 bill in the
winter time and when times were hard; he was different to some of our present
day bosses. I know some of them who
never gave a dollar for anything, only for flowers to put on some scab’s grave
when nobody else would send a wreath.”

What appears to be a brownstone stoop on No. 326 is actually openwork cast iron, as seen in its sister at No. 328. A stucco-like covering at No. 326 hides the original. -- photo by Alice Lum

By 1905, after Wilson’s death, Detective John J. Cray was
living here. Cray had joined the police
department in 1885 and by 1890 had been promoted to detective sergeant “having
already demonstrated his ability in dealing with safe-blowers and pickpockets,”
according to The New York Times. He
rose in the ranks at a blurring speed.
While living at No. 326 he was made lieutenant in 1907, captain in 1912,
an inspector in 1915 and Deputy Commissioner in 1920.

Cray’s success in law enforcement was partly a result of his
ability to remember details. “For years
Cray wandered up and down Broadway and his uncanny memory for faces made him
the terror of out-of-town crooks who flocked to the white light district,” said The Times. He would turn up at the Jefferson Market
Police Court with a criminal in tow who had been wanted for a crime miles from
New York.

In 1905, for instance, “Biff” Ellison was a ward politician
and street tough who ran his affairs from the Brighton Café on Great Jones
Street. That year he shot and murdered “Big
Bill" Harrington and fled the city. In
1911 he ventured back to New York where John Cray recognized and arrested him.

The Times was fond of Cray, calling him “one of the most
picturesque of the old-time detectives.
He was portly and handsome, his trim gray mustache and gray hair making
him a figure of some distinction. He was
always well dressed, with just a suggestion of the Broadway atmosphere in which
he moved so long, and his unfailing courtesy and good nature made him a
favorite not only of his men, but of others outside the department with whom he
came in contact.

The detective was known among the underworld not only for
his ethical behavior but for his fair dealing.
He became familiar with men on the street earned their trust; enabling
him to construct a system of informants.
“This use of stool pigeons to keep in touch with what was going on in
the criminal world was brought to a fine point of perfection by Cray, largely because
of his personal qualities.”

Considering Cray’s reputation, it was perhaps amazing that
in 1921 May Brown decided to live next door at No. 328. Although she claimed to be the daughter of a
wealthy merchant, Brown had a problem:
she was a drug addict. Her
husband divorced her “because of her downfall.”

On July 29 of that year she purchased a bottle of narcotics
from Anthony Collucci of 19 West 18th Street. She no longer lived next door to the Cray
family after that instance of bad judgment.

Four years later the 62-year old Cray was still living at
No. 326 with his wife and ten-year old daughter, Catherine, when the newspapers
reported that he was seriously ill at his home.
On September 15, 1925 he died in
the house. Three days later his funeral
service was held in St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

When the Deputy Commissioner's body passed through these doors with great ceremony, over 500 mounted policemen lined East 18th Street -- photo by Alice Lum

Cray’s coffin was removed from the house on East 18th
Street by an enormous police escort that included 500 mounted men. The casket, draped with the flag of the city,
was carried by the police the entire distance from the house to the Cathedral.

Over 1,200 policemen gathered in the church while the Police
Glee Club sang. The Times reported that “Such
a throng gathered at the entrance to the cathedral that thirty policemen were
assigned to preserve order.” The
newspaper noted that during his 40-year career, ““his record of arrests listed
some of the most notorious criminals in the country.”

John J. Cray's casket was removed from No. 326 (far right) around the time of this photo -- NYPL Collection

The little house at No. 326 and its two near matching
sisters survived throughout the 20th century with little
change. In 2004 it was converted to
apartments—one per floor.

photo by Alice Lum

In 1973 The Landmarks Preservation Commission noted that the
front yards of the three charming houses “provide unexpected surprise and
refreshing contrast to the continuous line of brick and brownstone facades
along the street.”

2 comments:

Hello Tom! Today's blog is very apropos...I am searching for a tie between my John J. Murphy family (carriage builder in Long Island City) and Charles F. Murphy, Tammany Hall Boss....who was also closely affiliated with John J. Cray. Charles' sister Margaret married Patrick J. Cray....John's brother I believe. I would like very much to save this blog and the attached photos to my Ancestry.com site. Is that possible?

I am also intrigued by how thorough your knowledge is about other architecture and their stories in the New York area. I am very interested in knowing if you have or can acquire a photo of 77 7th Street, Long Island City, NY in the 1890's. I believe my John J. Murphy ran a carriage building business from there and lived upstairs. His son, my great grandfather, Thomas J. Murphy and his wife Sarah lived at 72 7th St., 73 7th St., 74 7th Street at various times from 1891 to 1899. There is sooo much more I would like to know about this site and the Murphy family but am at a standstill. Is there anything you can suggest as reference for me? Thank you